At a club on Canal Street, Stuart is hangin' with Martin Brooks, who looks like a much fatter version of Mr. Bentley from The Jeffersons. Stuart asks him if he sees anyone he likes. He looks at Stuart and says, "Just one." Martin then tells a rather uncomfortable-looking Stuart that he'll sign the contract if Stuart has sex with him. Man, having to give fat Bentley from The Jeffersons a rimjob still wouldn't be punishment enough for the way Stuart acts, but it would come awfully close. Thinking fast, Stuart tells him that the guy he was on the phone with earlier was his boyfriend, who's just seeing his accountant that night. "Sorry," Martin says, looking very embarrassed. "I'll sign anyway." Pointing over the balcony at Nathan, who's at the bar with Donna, Stuart says, "What about him? He's up for anything. I'll put a good word in for you." See, this is shitty of Stuart, but since the subject of his shittiness is Nathan, for one nanosecond my heart is full of love for old Stu. And then, as quickly as they came, any positive feelings about him take their leave of me. "How old is he?" Martin asks Stuart curiously. "Fifteen," Stuart replies. "Fifteen? It's a bit revolting, isn't it?" Stuart takes a sip of his drink. "Ab-so-lutely," he smiles. Well, at least he's at peace with himself. Down on the first floor of the bar, Donna -- who looks totally beautiful, with her hair in cute little bunches and a sheer frock on -- is talking to Nathan, when Dazz approaches them. Nathan hastily says that he and Donna were just going. "We're not!" Donna protests. "We just got here!" Dazz looks at her friend evenly and says, "Nathan, love, calm down. This might come as a shock, but I'm not in love with you." It's a very enjoyable moment, but my notes also bear the line, "Dazz can't act," followed by a few hundred exclamation points and underlined ten times. Really, he cannot act. He's cute, though. Dazz turns to Donna and says he'll be right back, asking her to get him a dry martini (who is he, Ward Cleaver?) and introduces himself by his proper name, Daniel. After he's out of earshot, Donna looks at a sheepish Nathan and asks, "Daniel? Daniel from last night? The six-foot-two barrister with the BMW?" Nathan, taking great offense, replies, "No! That's a different Daniel." Yeah, Nathan, and your mother only put you in a plastic bag as an infant to keep you fresh -- or at least she should have. Whatever. Donna laughs at him, as does the audience, for neither the first nor the last time.